


Lasso My Heart

by Speckeh



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Western, Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sheriff Connor, Sweet Talk, gang member Hank, ill prepared first time, no slow burn, red dead redemption II au, they get to fucking real quick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 18:30:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18628849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Speckeh/pseuds/Speckeh
Summary: In this slight Red Dead Redemption II au, Connor is the Sheriff of Strawberry. Hank is the drifting stranger who came into town shot and bleeding, but keeps returning for the good boy Sheriff who seems way too young for the job. A fast romance is blooming between the two of them, but when bad news drifts into Strawberry, can they hold fast?





	Lasso My Heart

Strawberry was a pleasant town to visit. The long uphill was tedious to walk but the motel was fine and the baths were always hot. They even had that french lavender soap that he could smell on his clothes for a few days. At least it lasted until he was splattered with blood again, or spent a few weeks with his gang. The baths and the single bar wasn’t the reason why Hank Anderson started to appear around Strawberry every couple of weeks. Sometimes as often as every 3 days if he couldn’t tear himself away for so long. 

“Mr. Anderson!” The clear and young voice called out. Hank was still straddling the lovely brown draft horse he had stolen from a wagon six months ago. She was a sturdy and trustworthy friend, always eager to please Hank after some time and affection. Their bond had grown and now she seemed to read his every move. She turned her large head just as Hank turned his. He tipped his head up, hat brim lifting over his eyes to look at the eager figure coming towards him. 

Sheriff Connor wore a white hat with a pale blue button up shirt, light brown jeans, and boots that were tucked under his pant legs. He picked up his walk to a light trot, hurrying up to the not-so-stranger entering his town. “Mr. Anderson! I wasn’t expecting you til Tuesday!” The Sheriff looked like he was barely over 23, when in actuality he was turning 28. In the sun, his freckles appeared across a boyish handsome face, brown hair seemed to sparkle golden, and Hank could only imagine what his untouched skin looked like underneath. 

“Surprise, kid.” Hank kept his smile from appearing on his own face. Connor took the large nose of Hank’s horse and stroked it affectionately. “And how are you Annie? Your coat is looking shiny.” Annie pushd her nose against Connor’s chest, knowing in the past he kept a sugar cube or two in his pocket for her. He pulled it out on command and she munched happily. “You know me too well girl.” He laughed and Hank felt like someone put a bullet in his chest. 

“But why are you really here, Mr. Anderson? I don’t have any bounties for you today and there hasn’t been a brawl fight in the bar since you dealt with those Kara Sisters.” Connor’s blue eyes shone bright, though the sharp clear color was shadowed over from the brim of his hat. Hank shifted his weight in his saddle, feeling his cheek radiate underneath the constant sunburn he seemed to have. “It’s your birthday today, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question, but a reminder. He felt embarrassment fill him more as confusion crossed Connor’s face before his eyes lit up in genuine surprise. 

“Well, it sure is Mr. Anderson. How nice of you to remember! But you didn’t have to travel all this way to wish me a happy birthday.”  
Hank dismounted his horse. It always amused him how high he sat on Annie’s saddle but as soon as he touched the ground he and Connor we nearly eye level. “I didn’t come here for nothing.” Hank reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a brown parchment box tied with twine alongside a bottle of bourbon. “Happy Birthday, _Connor_.” 

Connor gingerly took the box from Hank’s rough hands. He tipped the bottle, noticing that Hank hadn’t been tempted to steal a nip of it as he had been prone to do in the past. “I’d say this is just cause for a celebration. Well, my celebration.” Connor giggled that triumphant sound whenever he made a successful joke. Hank rolled his eyes and took Annie’s reigns, “Har har Sheriff. Get your ass in gear.” Hank gave the Sheriff leg a kick but it didn’t take that stupid smile off his face. “Follow me, though it’s not like I have to remind you where my office is.” 

Hank had drifted into Strawberry running away from the lawmen. He and his gang had robbed a bank 3 towns over and he barely managed to escape. His shoulder was bleeding heavily, a clean shot through the muscle that would hurt for two months but nothing permanent. As soon as Annie had skidded into town, scared and panting hard, he all but fell off her and stumbled into the nearest building. Just his luck it had been the Sheriff’s office and before he could say anything, fell to the floor. He blacked out for who knew how long, but when he awoke he was shirtless and bootless on a bed much cleaner than back in camp with his shoulder wrapped up. Connor appeared a few minutes later and since then, Hank seemed to not be able to keep the boy out of his mind. 

Hank hitched Annie in front of Connor’s office, patting her neck as she bowed her head to drink long from the trough. He followed the slim Sheriff up the steps and into the comfort of his office. Hank removed his black hat and set it on Connor’s desk while the other pulled out two mismatched glasses and removed the cork with a satisfactory pop. The pour wasn’t so bad either, Hank taking the glass once it was offered to him. The two of them clinked their drinks and while Connor savored the taste, Hank threw his down in one go. Both of them coughed, Hank harder than the other. 

“Where’d you get this stuff? I haven’t seen this quality around here.” Connor brought the bottle closer for inspection while Hank sat down in the chair opposite. “Hard to come by. You’re welcome.” He folded his arms across his chest as Connor gave him a gentle look. His attention turned to the brown box tied with twine. With a gentle tug, the twine came loose and pooled on his desk. The lid slid off easily enough and Connor pulled out what was inside. He blinked a few times as he stared at the taxidermy squirrel to look like a gunslinger. “Uh, hm.”  
“It’s art.” Hank stated, a little defensively.  
“This.. is a mighty fine gift.” He set the squirrel back on the desk beside the bourbon and moved slowly around his large oak desk. It had been his dad’s until he died two years ago. Being the only child and stupid enough, he took over being Sheriff. It was a tough time, but the town had known him since he was little and didn’t give him much trouble. 

“I’d say so.” Hank leaned back in his seat, staring up at Connor. He sure did look pretty in that pale blue shirt. He was fascinating with his barely dirt touched face, his slim structure, but Hank knew the kid had plenty of strength behind him. He had dragged Hank into his bed when he passed out all by himself. 

“You’ve been coming in more often, Mr. Anderson. Some people say you’ve been mighty sweet on me. Helping me with Mrs. Liam’s wolf problem, sending Miss North back home to her Maw, and that’s the short list. Now you’ve come to visit me on my birthday.” Sheriff Connor was stalking forward and Hank felt his throat dry. He could smell the oaky scent of his cologne, the pale of his throat called for kisses, those small hips could be engulfed by his large hands. His jeans felt unbearably tight, Connor not helping as his hand grasped the top of the chair behind Hank’s head. “What do you have to say for yourself Mr. Anderson?” “I’d say you owe me a little party favor, Sheriff. You know, for everything I do for your skinny ass.” Hank grinned wide and Connor reciprocated. 

“I think I have one present left to unwrap.” Like one of his wet dreams, Hank was helpless as Connor straddled him and sat completely in his lap. Automatically he wrapped his arms around those skinny hips, pushing their chests close together, leaning his face in to breathe in that cologne resting against Connor’s jawline. “Good god.” Hank growled as the young sheriff wrapped his arms around Hank’s shoulders, pulling them closer, rocking his hips against the clothed erection. 

Hank tipped his head up, brushing their lips together in a soft moment. He smirked as he heard the needy gasp leave Connor, those red lips popping open, squeezing him tighter. “Been waiting to do that forever, Darlin.” Hank murmured and Connor’s response was a hungry kiss. Their lips devoured one another, tongues slipping into the other’s, gaspy breaths for only a few seconds before they dived back in together. Hank’s hands slid down and around to grasp Connor’s ass, squeezing him tight and was rewarded with a delicious buck against his hard-on. 

It felt too fast, but the uncontrollable pull he had felt the moment he laid eyes on the too young Sheriff felt like fate. The young man devoured Hank’s kisses, frantically kissing him as if the moment they stopped they would both wake up on opposite ends of the state, realizing every moment had been a dream. Hank held Connor tight, a low moan quickly being swallowed as a excited tongue slipped into his mouth. He about lost it when he felt a hand in his greying beard and another in the back of his growing hair. 

If he stopped to ask, everything would end. Nerves would get the better of the two of them. Instead, Hank stood up, both hands cupping Connor’s ass, not only to get a feel but to support him as he clumsily stumbled into Connor’s back office. The Sheriff’s hands moved to one around Hank’s neck for balance while the other reached back and fumbled with the doorknob. Hank pressed him into the firm wood door, mouth leaving his to bite and kiss that fine neck. The little gasps that left Connor about had him cumming untouched in his jeans. 

The door finally popped open and the two of them almost fell through. Hank barely kicked the door with his boot closed, hurrying to the twin bed that would be too small for the both of them and dropped Connor down. The brunet wrapped his legs around Hank’s thighs, nearly dragging him down into the bed as his fast fingers unbuttoned his companion’s shirt in no time. Hank busied with his own jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing them off his hip, long underwear pulled off next and taking his hard cock into his hand.  
Hank hissed at the first touch and Connor’s eyes lidded, reaching out and placing his hand on top of the older man’s. “Do you have a license for that Mr. Anderson?”  
Hank groaned, removing his hand from his own cock and grabbed hold of Connor’s shirt with both of them. “I should leave you high and dry for that, smartass.”  
“Promise?”  
His big paws fumbled as they popped open buttons, all the way down to the large buckle belt, and untucked it from his jeans. He felt Connor’s legs leave him and toed off his boots, the heaviness of them thunking against the floorboards. 

Connor sat up some, shoving off Hank’s shirt from his shoulders and pulling his jeans and underwear to his knees. “Don’t know if we have time..” He lamented, hands joining Hank’s as they slipped his belt from his skinny hips and he yanked his jeans off as smoothly as he could. “It is my birthday. Never know who might come knocking to say hello.”  
“Don’t rush me, boy.” Hank scolded, but it was more playful as he spat into his hand to slick up his cock. 

Connor spat in his own hand, scooting up his creaky, temporary bed and slicked his hole as best as he could. They should have taken more time. Hank should have stretched Connor all pink and pretty until the boy had tears in his eyes from wanting it so badly. Connor should have anticipated this day and replenished his lard from the general store. Instead, they were hurried, heated, passionate: a perfect summary of their relationship the last four months. Hank coming into town, shot and nearly dead; a stranger with no home and no one knew where he went. And yet Connor couldn’t forget about him, and neither could Hank. 

Hank’s rough hands grabbed knobby knees, prying them far apart as he kneeled on the bed. The springs groaned under the weight of two men, loud and almost painful sounding. Connor’s hands scrambled to grab Hank around his neck, ready for the ill-prepared penetration. The tap of the head of Hank’s cock between his cheeks had him jump a bit. It earned him a muttering, “Hold still sweetheart” from Hank as he lined himself up and began to push inside. The stretch stung, uncomfortable as Connor’s body was opened in a non-too-gentle way. His mind was ready, but his body wasn’t quite there. 

Hank continued to push forward until their bodies were flushed. He could feel Connor’s body tremble with pain, despite the man’s soothing touch along his hips and belly. “Looking real pretty on my cock, Sheriff.” Hank purred, leaning down to kiss along Connor’s neck again. He sucked on his pulse point and could feel the younger man tighten and then relaxed around his cock. He bucked his hips in a steady but shallow pump, needing to drive into that tight heat but hoping he could warm Connor up in the meantime. “Like you were born to take it, right to the hilt. A few more times like this and I’ll have you singing showtunes.” 

Connor snorted, the pain prickling tears in the corners of his eyes but he couldn’t deny there was a building pleasure about it. Hank was filling, average length, and made him feel like with the right angle and he’d be seeing the same stars from his own fingers late at night. He wouldn’t change this for the world. “Shut up.” Connor grunted, grabbing Hank’s beard and pulling the man down to kiss his way through the mixed signals of his body. This time Hank licked into his mouth, feeling the whole interior of it while his hips still pumped shallowly. Connor reached between them, grabbed hold of his cock and began to rub himself off. His hand was drier than he liked it, but he made do. This whole first time was exactly as Connor thought about Hank: rough around the edges but perfect. 

As his body began to warm up with the pleasure of his own hand, it was easier to take in Hank. The little pained grunts and breaths were melting into throaty whines and pleas for Hank to go a little faster, a little harder. He heard his companion swear, grabbing his thin hips in a tight hold and adjusting his stance, pounding into Connor. His whole body shook, the jabbing and full pleasure making his toes curled in the socks his mother made for him last Christmas. The bed was singing louder than them, an awful springing sound with rubbing metal that groaned under the gyrating weight.

Suddenly Hank’s whole weight and hips dove forward in a hard thrust, leaning over Connor and nearly smothering him in his large chest. He felt the telltale signs of jackrabbit thrusts that were slowing down, a heat suddenly inside his stomach. Hank was kissing his clavicle, practically slobbering on it like a dog with a juicy bone. His hand swatted away Connor’s to take over. He engulfed his cock perfectly, jerking him off too fast and within 20 seconds he was spilling into the older man’s hand. 

Connor sucked in breaths, fingernails digging into Hank’s back through his orgasm, daring to rip into his flesh. The two of them were sweating, out of breath, a dazed look in their eyes. Connor’s body was thrumming, already wanting Hank out but also keeping him close forever. The pull out stung and the sheriff almost yowled, instead letting out a final gasp as the cockhead of Hank slipped out. 

The older man stepped back on shaky legs, pouring water from the basin onto a cloth and using it to clean his mess. He tucked himself back in before coming to Connor and running it between his legs. Connor hissed, growling a bit as the cleaning stung and was cold. Hank leaned down and kissed him, kissed him again and again until that slight frown turned into a dazed smile. When they stopped, Hank rubbed the tips of their noses together, Connor’s hands cupping his bearded face to hold him close. “Stay?” He asked quietly, whole body tired and legs shaking. He couldn’t close his thighs even if he wanted to. 

“You know I would darlin’ but-”  
“It’s not your nature.” Connor sighed, pushing that barrelled chest away from him. Hank stepped back, frowning a little.  
“I could help you. Maybe get you to the hotel to clean you up a bit.”  
The Sheriff waved him away, shaking his head. “Go. Staying to help will only make my birthday more sour when you eventually leave.”  
Hank leaned down for one more kiss, flicking Connor’s nipple with his finger. The boy grumbled, and covered his chest. “I’ll come back in a couple of weeks. Bring you something sweet.”  
“I’ll hold you to it, Mr. Anderson.” 

Hank gave his thigh a slap before pulling on his clothes. “Happy Birthday Sheriff. At least you can blame the walk on riding a horse for too long.” He laughed and Connor groaned, sitting up and grimaced a bit as he felt the first leak of Hank from his body. “Just go, you’re insufferable!” He smiled a bit and Hank opened the door to his office. “Don’t day dream too long about me, Mr. Sheriff. Strawberry needs you.”  
With a wink, Hank closed the door and Connor fell back onto his bed with a soft groan. He stared up at the ceiling for a long time, recovering and smiling to himself over the best birthday he had in a long while. 

It took two hours for Connor to efficiently clean himself and get the balance back in his legs. When he stood for too long or took the stairs, his knees threatened to give out which had him fighting back the giggles. He ran after the worst lawmen, runaway cattle, threw his lasso more than he could count, but it was Hank’s cock that made it difficult to function afterwards. Connor was just settling into a quiet day, pouring himself another glass of Hank’s bourbon when a stranger stepped through his office. 

He looked like a man who had been on the road for awhile, dust collecting on his clothes and the smell of being on a horse longer than a week. He looked around the office for a moment, eyes settling on Connor. “You the Sheriff of Strawberry?” He stood tall and Connor straightened out.  
“Yes. Who’s asking?”  
“Markus Manfred, at your service.”  
He nodded at the stranger, grabbing an extra glass and pouring him a shot from his birthday gift. “And what can I do for you Mr. Manfred?” 

Markus stepped forward, thanking the Sheriff for the drink and downed it in one go. He didn’t wince at the burn and his eyes never left Connor as he returned the glass. “I’ve been on the lookout for a certain gang member. He runs with the Red Ice, and they’ve stolen quite a bit of money from the Government. This one is particular has been known to start bar fights and has killed a few people in the scuffle. We’re picking them one by one, hoping to not raise suspicion to the leader we’re going for them as a whole.” Markus reached into his satchel and pulled out a sun burned parchment, unfolding it for Connor to take. 

“Word out here is that he’s been seen around these parts every couples of weeks or so. You’ve ever seen this man, Sheriff?”  
The words were caught in Connor’s throat, trying to control the trembling from his fingers as he stared at Hank’s face on a poster: **Wanted. Dead or Alive**. 

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Percy. 
> 
> Somewhat inspired by imaginary-wanderer's post: https://imaginary-wanderer.tumblr.com/post/180421471026/so-this-dbh-wild-west-au-young-clancy-brown-was 
> 
> There will be three chapters and a epilogue! 
> 
> Due to university stuff, this fic may take awhile to write and update. But hopefully it'll be finished during the summer!


End file.
